This Love Is Real
by Immi
Summary: Sara tells Catherine about her childhood. SaraCath angst.


Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing.

Warning: This story deals with the subject of child abuse- a bit more graphic than Sara's explanation in Nesting Dolls. Not entirely sure if it's noteworthy, but I thought I'd mention it.

* * *

I fell in love for the first time when I was fifteen. At least, I thought it was love. It definitely wasn't just a crush. But at the same time, I don't think I knew her enough to love her. 

Yes, she. My first- lust?- was a girl.

The thought that I felt so strongly about another girl didn't really bother me. According to my parents, I was a screw up anyways. One more thing wouldn't make much of a difference.

She was my foster sister. We shared a room night after night for about two months. Funny, it seemed so much longer.

I told her how I felt. I was nervous as hell that she might be offended. Even though I wasn't having issues with the whole 'we're both girls' thing, her being my foster sister might still be a little awkward.

But she returned my feelings. Still not entirely sure what that meant.

We went out on dates, telling our foster parents that we just wanted to spend time with each other outside of school and- home? I guess it was… sort of.

It took me forever to tell her about my family. When the whole thing started, I had known that I would have to tell her if I wanted a real relationship. Stupid for a kid in the system, now that I think about it. Actually, I probably knew it was stupid at the time, too. I just cared about her too much to pay much attention.

But maybe 'cared' is the wrong word- I still have no idea what it was.

When I told her… she freaked. She was in the system because her parents had gotten into a car accident. Meaning she was a bit oblivious when it came to the horror stories the other kids had.

Suddenly, the comfort she had given me was gone. In its place were hateful words and spiteful glances.

I would never be so relieved to leave a foster home.

I had really thought it wouldn't make a difference. Of course, I also thought that I was in love at the time. Shows what I know.

Now I know I'm in love. Which is probably why I realize that what I felt for my foster sister wasn't it. It's sort of weird that I still consider her my foster sister- not just an ex. I guess I appreciated her more as a companion than a girlfriend.

But now that I'm actually in love- the sort that makes someone feel the like they have malaria. Or the flu- I can't seem to figure out which fits better. Most likely because when I'm around her, I can't think very coherently.

Catherine and I have been dating for four months. At the start, I think she realized that I was holding back from her. It didn't bother her- she respected my privacy. Lately, though, I think I've been trying her patience.

These past few weeks we've dealt with several domestic abuse cases. She really wants to know why they bother me so much. And I want to tell her. I want to be able to tell her everything so that our connection can grow even more.

Unfortunately, I also know that in order to gain something that wonderful, I'm going to have to risk what we have. Though with the way things have been going, I might end up losing her anyways.

So there's not really any option that I like here. Talking about what happened has always been hard. If she were there with me, it wouldn't be so bad. But her being there in disgusted shock would just about kill me.

Out of everything… I think I hated the Looks most of all. Because I knew those were wrong. It took me a long time to admit that the abuse was actually abuse. The Looks, though… definitely wrong.

After I told Grissom, he gave me the Look. Even when he knew about the Look, he still managed to express it. When I first came to Vegas, that might have bothered me. But I- finally- figured out that I didn't really want a relationship with him. I felt much, much more for my foster sister. Which is actually somewhat pathetic now that I stop to think about it.

"Hey Cath- after shift, could I come over to your house? I mean, since Nancy's taking Lindsey to school, and… I… we need to talk. Uh… that is, I need to… explain something to you." Considering how badly I'm doing explaining that I need to explain something, it should be disastrous. For more than one reason.

Damn it, it's been a while since pessimism was lodged into my every thought. It's all but stopped these past few months. It was nice. No, _is_ nice. Positive thoughts, Sara. You don't want to be drunk _while_ you talk to her.

Catherine is nodding- bless her for not asking what sort of thing I want to tell her.

"Sure, Sara. Do you want to have breakfast first?"

No, because the odds that it will be pleasant when I have the strong suspicion that you'll dump me in a few hours are slim to none.

"No thanks. So… see you after shift." I lean over her desk and kiss her lightly. I don't want to have my heart wrenched out after passionately making out over her office desk. I'm already preparing myself for the worst heartbreak of my life.

Then again, since I've never really felt this way about anyone forever, I've never been truly heartbroken. I'm terrified of really feeling it.

* * *

"You wanted to tell me something?" Catherine isn't really questioning me. She's gently prodding me into saying what I really want to say. She did that early in our relationship too- when I was still extremely insecure. At first she would try yelling, but that would usually result in one of us jumping the other. 

I sort of preferred the other method. But this one is nice too. Gentleness is not something I'm accustomed to. It's wonderful. My hands shake at the mere thought of losing it.

Catherine notices this and reaches over to hold them. If anything, that makes the shaking worse. Losing this is definitely more than my heart could bear. But I honestly don't think I can keep this from her any longer.

"Yeah."

I stay quiet for a few more moments, trying to calm myself down. I keep a death grip on her hand. I have her for a few more seconds at least. I would be crazy not to hold on to this comfort for as long as possible.

"I've never really talked about it to anyone. I told Grissom, but that turned out to be a really, really stupid thing to do."

She tenses slightly at the mention of Grissom, but doesn't say anything. She's still a little concerned about my non-relationship with Grissom. Not as worried as she was at the start of our relationship, thank God. But it still bothers her a bit.

"Afterwards… he didn't think of me the same person. He didn't come out and say it, because he's Grissom, but his attitude towards me obviously changed."

I won't say anything about how worried I am that she'll do the same thing. She really hates it when I make assumptions about her emotions. I do it anyways, of course, but I'm not suicidal enough to say anything.

I can't tell her what happened the way I told Grissom. Catherine will actually care about how I say it.

"My father… abused me. Belittled me at every chance he got… insulted everything I did… he was never sober. Always high or drunk. Sometimes both. He beat me… and he raped me. A lot. When I was eight… my older brother got fed up. He left. Didn't tell me a damn thing… just left. My mother wasn't much better. Worse, in some ways, actually. It's weird. My parents managed to both abuse and neglect me. My mother locked me in closets; in the car; pretty much wherever she wouldn't be able to hear me. I-I almost died of dehydration several times."

I pause for a second. I don't really know how to say the next part.

"Then… when I was thirteen… she finally lost it. My father abused her too… But that wasn't why she lost control… If it had been that, I never would have been born. She was pissed because he hid some of his drugs from her. So… while I was lying on the floor of my bedroom, bleeding to death… she got a knife. A big one. She stabbed him again and again… someone was screaming… I don't really know who… But the neighbors called the cops because they heard screaming, so someone was… When the cops came, they had to pull my mother off of my father… There was blood everywhere… all over me, all over my bed, all over my mother… everywhere. This young cop was throwing up all over the place… others were too, but they managed to do it outside.

"There was this social worker that came over. She was trying really hard not to look around my bedroom… or at the blood on me. I don't remember her name, but I couldn't let go of her hand- even when I went into the ambulance."

I think that's it. That's all that she really needs to know. She doesn't need to hear about every single instance of abuse. She probably has the general idea of what sort of injuries my body endured. She's seen my scars. I tried to hide them, but it didn't work too well. She never specifically asked me to stop covering them, but she obviously wanted me to. Just like she obviously wanted me to tell her how I got them. Now I have.

I won't look up into her eyes. I let go of her hand a while ago, so I wouldn't have to feel it stiffen.

"Sara?" Her voice is quiet. Not like my foster sister's fear, not like Grissom's avoidance.

I still can't look at her. I might have just ruined four months of a wonderful relationship. At the very least, she probably won't want me anywhere near her daughter anymore.

A very gentle hand lifts my chin up, and before I know it, I'm looking into watery blue pools. She looks like she wants to say something, but instead she just wraps her arms around me.

I don't know how to react. This was not expected… she's touching me… even after everything I told her. And she's…

…Crying?

Yeah… she is. Why is she crying?

"Cath?" I don't know if I'm allowed to talk to her at the moment, but I don't want her to cry.

I tentatively return her hug. That seems to be the right thing to do, as she leans into me more.

"What sort of sick… Who could do that to a child?" Her voice is shaking. She's obviously upset, but I don't know what sort of upset it is yet.

"I wish both of them were dead… Though… I'd really like to take a swipe at that bastard." She pulls away from me and looks me directly in the eye. Something I've been avoiding since I entered her home. I didn't want to see her disgusted with me.

But… looking at her now… she's not disgusted. Her eyes are angry, but it isn't directed at me. And… the amount of love and affection in those eyes is staggering.

I think some of my shock has gotten through to her.

She shakes her head at me and attempts a smile. "I love you, Sara. I don't care what sort of parents you had- I don't care about them. I care about you! And damn it, Sara- you're wonderful."

The bare honesty in her voice makes my heart stop. The dormant tears in my eyes act up and fall down my cheeks.

There isn't much one can say to such a beautiful confession. So I just gather her in my arms and cry into her shoulder. Catherine keeps a tight grip on me, peppering my hair with soft kisses.

Catherine speaks up again, and I make sure I pay close attention. "Thank you, Sara. For letting me in. God knows you don't let just anyone this close to you. Thank you so much."

I still can't think of anything to say. All I can do is stare up at her with tears blurring my vision.

"I love you."

She smiles affectionately at me, a few tears still falling. "And I love you. Don't you _ever_ doubt that, Sidle."

What? But I didn't- I doubted that she would want to be with-

Oh.

That settles it. This is really love.

Thank God.


End file.
